"When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other andremember each other."

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Last Friday, as I was bending down to get into my car, I heard a sound that I am surprised I never heard sooner. It was the unwelcomed, but unsurprising sound of my pants ripping directly down the middle of my backside.

Peachy.

At first, I handled it well. These pants and I had been through a lot together. These were the same pants that I bought from Mr. Mac (a.k.a. God's haberdashery) before my mission. I have had them for just over three years (and 60-75 lbs) and was ready for them to leave my side.

But then it got worse.

I drove home and moon-walked inside with a random jacket from the back of my car covering my behind. I walked in and laughed about the incident with my mom and my cousin. While we were laughing at my expense, I sheepishly raised my arm behind my head to scratch an itch (or itch a scratch if you're a redneck). My mom started staring at my elbow and told me there was a hole in my shirt.

Damn.

By this point, I had had enough. My reaction was nothing short of "Hulk"-ish behavior. I bent my arm at the elbow and flexed. The hole on my elbow grew until I was able to rip my sleeve off from the elbow down.

For the sake of symmetry, I did the same thing to the other sleeve.

I then walked down the my brother's room and summoned the best Hulk Hogan impression I could muster. I grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it apart, buttons and all.

Today is my last day of being 21. But yesterday was when the magic happened.

Last night, I had the wonderful opportunity of seeing one of my favorite performers with his old band. The wonderful Andrew McMahon brought the old boys of Something Corporate to Salt Lake City. I love Andrew concerts because I always get to see my fellow Fandrew McFan's and just enjoy the experience.

The concert itself was wonderful (of course), but nothing more to write about there.

The excitement began after the concert.

Myself and two of my dear friends made our way back to the car where we waited for my buddy and the girl he brought with him to buy shirts and come out. I got tired of leaning against the car and wandered by myself to a nice little stoop on the corner. I sat and thought and savored the night by myself for a moment or two. A nice ragged man greeted me with a "How's it going?" and walked past me up the stoop. He reached down and grabbed his sleeping bag and went to find another place to sleep. I felt pretty bad for inadvertently stealing a homeless man's turf, but I didn't really have time to beat myself up about it.

My two friends had a heated discussion about who knows what and one of them came over to join me on the stoop. I could see that she was fresh from a passionate discussion. She was in one of those places where she has hopelessly hopeful. That's the best I can do do describe it. After a couple heavy sighs the other friend made her way over to join us. Immediately after she sat down on the stoop, another man approached pushing a shopping cart. He asked us if we could use a drink. We politely/nervously declined and thanked him anyway. He wouldn't take no for an answer as he calmly reached into his cooler and pulled out three ice cold sodas. He gave us each a can (how did he know I love grade soda?) and started to talk."My name's Buck," he says, "remember my name. I recently got a $200 ticket for giving somebody a can of Pepsi at Pioneer Park. The policeman walked right past a crack dealer and a man with an open bottle of Vodka to give me a ticket for giving a homeless man a Pepsi. I'm going to court to fight it." He continued to tell us how it's only when we lose everything that we really have anything to give. He moved to Salt Lake to battle cancer that should have killed him 18 months ago. He was commissioned by a wealthy man to stay in a house and make sure the homeless don't sleep in his trucks. So now, Buck lets the homeless stay with him in the house. He talked about how the only thing in life that matters is love. "People don't say hi to each other any more." He said and his point was illustrated as a group of young people walked by with their heads down. All Buck likes to do is walk around downtown with his shopping cart, giving food/drinks to the needy.I met a Superhero last night. One day I hope to see Buck again when I'm in a position to give him a hand.